Standing in the Way of Control
by Reminscees
Summary: Arthur and Alfred get frisky in the bathroom at one crazy house party. Arthur only agrees because he's promised decent rum. Alfred only agrees because Arthur does. Francis has 3D glasses, a fur coat, and a tricycle. Gilbert is fairly sure he's just smoked oregano. / 'Skins' inspired- That should be your warning if you're not into that sort of thing. /


It all started with Arthur texting Alfred, which occurred, to the surprise of many, oddly often, but not so to the surprise of Alfred, who was presently leaning on the side of his bed, metal boring into his back as he held his controller in his hand and quickly paused his game.

Huh.

He _paused_ his game.

Arthur must be real' special for that to happen.

He reached over and grabbed his phone, unlocked it with a swipe of his finger, and adjusted his glasses to read the message.

'_Francis invited us. House party. Bring rum if interested.'_

Alfred smiled a little, then began typing a response, only to be halted by another message from Arthur.

'_Good rum. Not cheap shit, you dick.'_

Alfred sighed, and erased what he previously began to write, and replaced it with a simple _'K.'_.

Good enough.

He threw his phone behind him, and it hit the mattress with a soft noise.

Alfred started up his game again, only to be disturbed by the vibration of his phone again.

'_Come over to mine at 9. If you leave me alone at the Frenchman's, I'll hate you.'_

Oh, Arthur.

'_Love you too, bae', _Alfred typed, and even added a little heart symbol for good measure.

Arthur took some time to reply, but eventually, he seemed to have settled on a _'See you then.'_. Alfred hoped he was simply too embarrassed to reflect Alfred's loveable and caring measure. Then again, he had him saved as _'Lil' shit'_ in his contacts, hoping neither of his parents ever saw it.

Alfred stared at the clock before returning to his game. It was 6:30, he realised, after looking at it for a good couple of breaths. His heart felt oddly light and fluttery, perhaps it was just Arthur.

Well, '_just_ _Arthur'_ was really not doing him just.

He was amazing. Beautiful. Smart. Witty. And so much more. _God_, did Alfred know it.

Maybe he should get ready. Maybe if he can impress Arthur enough, he could even get some tonight. He was so contradictory- He went from pissed old man to pissed angry smoking teenager in mere seconds. Truthfully, Alfred thought both were equally hot and adorable, which was a little bit creepy, in his opinion.

Alfred sighed and heaved himself up from the floor, placing his controller on the floor. He pulled down his shirt and noticed the stain. Better get dressed up, or he'd get a scolding from Arthur. Same thing with the rum. Alfred felt in his bones that if he didn't get that bottle, he'd really go home hard.

And that really sucked.

:::

By the time Alfred had argued with his parent's enough to get them to agree that he was going to sleep over at Arthur's, which was partially true, it had been 8:30.

Might as well get the car and go. Arthur would hate him if he were late.

He grabbed his keys and phone, as well as his wallet, and stuffed them in his jeans pockets, which were a little too large, just like his entire clothing choice. The shirt was clean, at least, and he even brought a sweater like his mother advised him to do.

He ran down the stairs and slammed the door a little too loudly, all in one motion, and left with a shouted '_Bye, love you!_' directed upstairs.

He jogged over to the trash can, were he had previously hid the bottle of rum- _decent_ rum- while taking his trash out, and chuckled whilst opening the door to his rusty red pick-up truck. Starting the engine and shifting the gears, he flicked the radio on- classic rock because he was a _classy_ sort of guy- and began driving through the streets. It was dark out, but the lights from the tall metal poles flickered and illuminated the road, as his truck hummed and bumped along the suburban scenery.

Arthur's house was not far away, and in a mere ten minutes, he pulled up in front of the driveway. He noticed how much nicer the garden was here than at his house.

Alfred pulled his phone from his pocket and notified Arthur of his presence with an ominous _'Im here'_. He heard a thudding noise coming from the house, and a window opened from upstairs with a violent creaking noise. Curious, Alfred leaned forward towards the wheel, which he had gripped tightly with one hand, phone in the other. It was Arthur, who balanced himself and had his palms pushed firmly on the window sill. He glanced down, with a seemingly dark and serious expression- Probably caused by those eyebrows, Alfred thought. Luckily, Alfred wasn't under-dressed or over-dressed- Arthur wore all black, as usual, with black jeans and a blank black t-shirt, from what Alfred had seen at the window. The scene was almost cinematic and cliché- Arthur looked real' nice in the light of the moon. Before he could indulge himself further in the sight, he vanished, and the window was shut with a strong push.

Alfred heard a hasty 'Bye!' shouted before the house door opened, and Arthur walked outside, quickly, in long strides, putting on a black leather jacket as he moved. Again with this overly romantic feel in the air- It was like Alfred saw everything in slow motion. He debated getting out of the car and greeting Arthur properly, and maybe cupping a feel, those jeans were _really_ tight on Arthur's legs, but it was too late. Arthur opened the door with some force.

He greeted Alfred with a stern look. Alfred swallowed audibly.

"Drive." He commanded after some time, his head looking out the window, as if watching or waiting for something.

Alfred whistled and did as he was told, starting the engine with a spluttering sound. As soon as he was remotely far from Arthur's house, Arthur quickly turned his head and upper body to look behind the car. Alfred followed his glance through the mirror, but there was nothing there. Alfred swallowed again and furrowed his eyebrows together.

"You okay there?" He hesitantly asked, shyly looking over to Arthur.

Arthur sighed in response and dug in the pocket of his jacket, then pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He searched in the other pocket, and then around his seat on the floor. He resurfaced with an "_Ah ha!_" and a lighter. Lighting his cigarette, he finally answered: "Yeah. Parents."

"Hey, pull open a window, will 'ya?" Alfred told him.

"Someone's a little prickly today." Arthur said quietly, but did as he was told. They sat in silence for some time, the music from Alfred's radio still playing.

"Did you bring the rum?" Arthur spoke up, still smoking.

"Yeah. I wouldn't be a good boyfriend if I didn't, would I?" Alfred gestured to the back seat. Arthur stretched to reach it, and Alfred found himself staring at the skin at his hipbone revealed in the motion.

Arthur returned to his seat with a smirk.

"Who says you are now?"

"Hey!" Alfred exclaimed, and Arthur laughed a little, flicking the remaining cigarette out of the window, and then continued to open the bottle.

"You know we're almost there, right? You could just wait..." Alfred began and leaned forward slightly, checking the road. He really didn't want to get in trouble- With the police and with his parents.

"It's one of Francis's house parties. I can never manage those without being slightly drunk beforehand." Arthur spoke up in a muttered tone.

"True. Don't drink the whole bottle, save me some." Alfred said with lopsided smile.

"Damn cheek." Arthur muttered while taking a sip.

"Not mad." He continued and handed the bottle over to Alfred, who drank graciously. He coughed wildly as soon as he swallowed.

"How can you do that?" He exclaimed at Arthur loudly, throwing the bottle back into his open hands. Arthur smiled a little in response, shrugged his shoulders, and took another sip.

"This is pretty decent." Arthur complimented after some time.

"Thanks." Alfred said proudly with an exhale. He didn't notice that he was holding his breath.

Arthur lit another cigarette and stared out of the window, thinking about something.

Thinking.

He was always thinking.

Alfred continued driving, and sooner or later, there was muted music, lined with low bass and rhythm, in his ears. He pulled up behind another car in the street, just in front of the house. Some girl squealed inside, and loud laughter erupted. He could have sworn he heard something smash, too, Francis's parties were famous for being wild and filled with sex and unwanted callings from neighbours, under-aged drinking and weed smoking, among other drugs, of course.

Lost in thought, he turned his head to Arthur with a small smile, and his eyes widened when he saw that Arthur had been staring at him intensely.

"Fuck." Arthur muttered, and leant forward, rum bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other.

His hands suddenly found either side of Alfred's head, and he pushed forward, pulled Alfred in for a surprisingly good and heated kiss. Arthur went full-on, tongue brushing against Alfred's lips, which he pried open and delved inside. Arthur's cigarette ash was getting on the seat and Alfred's shirt, but he didn't seem to care, neither did Arthur. Alfred's eyes were firmly shut in concentration, and his hand wrapped around Arthur's waist, drawing smooth circles in response, causing a 'hm' like noise from Arthur sending shivers down his spine.

It must have lasted a good couple of minutes, Alfred guessed, which was fine- more than fine- by him, and it would have lasted longer, if Gilbert would have not tapped loudly and harshly against the window.

Arthur quickly jumped back and got out of the car, taking his rum and cigarette with him. Alfred made a couple of confused sounding noises, then mirror Arthur's actions, locking his car and getting out his seat. He found Arthur kicking at the loudly laughing and suspiciously oddly smelling Gilbert. He pulled Arthur away, arms wrapped around his waist, but Arthur tried to pry them away, leaning forward, and shouting mixtures of '_Fuck off!_'s and '_Fuck you!_'s. Eventually he gave up and slumped slightly. Alfred didn't know what to do with his hands now, so he coughed and quickly removed them to his own sides again. Arthur found his skin was unusually warm where Alfred had touched him.

Arthur gaped a little, and then shut his mouth and began to quickly walk forward, Alfred jogging to keep up with him. They were the only ones outside the door, Arthur noted, before dragging his head down for a short kiss, messy and sloppy. It was entirely unlike him, yet Alfred expected it.

"How long do you want to stay?" Alfred asked when Arthur pulled away, straightening his shirt.

"Depends."

"I don't want to stay for too long, yanno?"

"Yeah. We could stop at Mc Donald's?" Arthur trailed off.

"_God, yes."_ Alfred laughed.

Arthur took a long swig from his bottle.

"Right" He said, and then opened the door, unlocked, as expected.

"This is going to be like _Skins_, isn't it?" Arthur murmured, walking inside, and Alfred couldn't question what he was talking about. The music was too loud, everything was loud, and hot, so _damn_ _hot_. It looked as though someone sprayed the house with fog, it was misty and nothing was clear, his mind was fogged, Arthur pushed forward, and Alfred shouted to him that they should find some half-way drinkable beer or anything, really. It was free, after all. Bodies pushed into him, and lights flickered, causing shadows to appear in the cloudy air.

Was that Antonio grinding up to that Italian guy in Alfred's homeroom?

He didn't know.

He didn't care.

Not with the way Arthur laced his fingers around his wrist, subtlety, yet possessive in a way that, embarrassingly, turned Alfred on. One of his hands held Alfred's, the other grabbed the rum bottle, his fingers around the cigarette. They reached the end of the room, standing by the window and the sofa pressed underneath it along with a messy pile of pillows, which were currently occupied by, as far as Alfred could tell in the dark, that one Dutch guy and Gilbert, both having weed to their disposal. Arthur lit a cigarette and Alfred coughed slightly at the heavy smell of the drug.

Arthur leant forward, barely resting his head on Alfred's shoulder, and breathed on his neck. The crowd was pushing behind them. Alfred forgot how to think.

"Do you..." Arthur began, speaking directly in his ear, shouting over the loud music, yet his voice sounding oddly soft, "Want to trash his place?" His hand was around Alfred's neck, their chests flush against each other.

_Oh._

The Franco-Anglo fight that Arthur oh-so-gladly insinuated at all possible times.

"Y-Yeah." Alfred finally found his voice, and found that they had been pushed against a mirror, a cliché old-ish looking one with golden frame, Arthur's back against the wall, and Alfred facing him. His breath was hot. It was all hot. _So damn __hot__._

Alfred slowly leant forward and connected his lips to Arthur's collarbone. Arthur hummed in reply, he could tell by the vibrations, his eyes closed and head back against the mirror. Arthur's hands aggressively tugged Alfred's head up and stared at him, intensely. Arthur was _fucking __grinding_at him, and Alfred could only return the gesture with shallow breaths. Neither were normally big on PDA, but _hey_, everyone here was either drunk, stoned, or both.

"Shouldn't we, _ah_," Alfred began, "Be mingling right now?"

"Mhm, probably." Arthur replied in a low voice. The moment seemed oddly private, seeing how they were basically getting each other off in someone else's house capacitating a good 300 other people.

Alfred brushed his cheek against Arthur's, who took a swig of his rum and a drag of his cigarette. Alfred moved downwards again, dragging his lips with him, his glasses digging uncomfortabley into Arthur's skin but he didn't care, it was too much and too little contact at the same time. Arthur smiled, eyes closed, and Alfred spread his fingers across either side of his waist, only interrupted by someone smacking his-

Did someone just smack his ass?

Surely _Arthur_ wouldn't-

"_Bonjour tout le monde!" _

_Of course._

Arthur pushed Alfred off before he could react, and he was created by a vision of hilarity and so damn normal for Francis.

It was Francis, on a tricycle, a small one, he was grazing the floor, in an over-exaggerated brown fur coat and cheap 3D glasses, the old-school ones with a blue and red lens each.

"What the fuck?" He heard Arthur shout, and he burst out laughing at the look on Arthur's face.

Francis ignored Arthur blatantly and tore his mouth open, continued forward on the vehicle, and bobbed his head to the music. Gilbert laughed hysterically behind them, and Arthur just stared. He then turned his head and stared at Alfred, who just looked back.

He then did something that was a complete surprise and yet Alfred expected it.

He took a drink, flicked the cigarette on the floor and extinguished it. He then took his hand and led him upstairs, pushing back the sweaty bodies and past the bright lights. Alfred just followed him, still dazed.

Turns out, Arthur knew his way around Francis's house pretty well, and Alfred found himself in his bathroom, alone with Arthur. He stood awkwardly in the doorway and watched as Arthur locked the door and walked inside, in a swift motion. He then knelt down in front of the bathroom cupboard and was searching for something.

"Whatcha lookin' for, dude?" Alfred asked loudly.

Arthur didn't reply, and Alfred was too lazy to ask again. He stared forward.

Arthur resurfaced with a tube of lipstick. He opened the case and then turned to the mirror.

"No fuckin' way-" Alfred began in shock, but it was too late.

Arthur had begun writing in bright red lipstick. And he seemed to have thought about it before he began, as very soon, Francis's mirror was equipped with some fresh graffiti, courtesy of Arthur's quick yet neat handwriting.

'_99.99% of Britons are hot but not heat wise'_

Arthur stood back and folded his arms, admiring his work. Alfred snorted, then grabbed the lipstick from his hand. Arthur watched curiously.

Alfred stuck his tongue out to flash between his lips and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he drew the small figure and continued to write in nearly-illegible script _'Killroy was here'_.

"Alfred, you nerd." Arthur began to kneel over slightly and laughed. Alfred laughed along and felt happy- Probably just because Arthur was laughing.

Eventually, the laughter died away, and Alfred began to hear the loud music downstairs. Somebody shrieked again.

"Seems pretty wild, huh?" Alfred asked, pointing his head to the door and gesturing to the mess downstairs. He put his hands in his pockets- A nervous habit, Arthur pointed out in his mind.

"'Suppose so." Arthur muttered. He stepped closer to Arthur, who mirrored his actions.

They met in the middle. Alfred quickly pushed him towards himself, hips fitting perfectly. Arthur's arms were around his neck, rum bottle forgotten next to the toilet. He can taste the alcohol in his breath.

You see, Arthur is one of the touchy drunks- although Arthur doesn't really get drunk ever, he's more tipsy right now. He's not part of the ones who outright pull you onto the nearest flat surface and fuck you silly, but the ones who slowly curl their fingers around your biceps and laugh, the kind that who caresses your jaw, and kisses your knuckles.

Alfred doesn't mind.

It's slow, it's warm- It's hot.

Alfred swears he's not breathing when Arthur moves his hands and brushes them against his cheek, then his jaw line. The hold on his waist tightens as Arthur leans closer, a serious look on his face, eyes strained on Alfred's eyes. He swallows as Arthur shyly trails his lips across his jaw, and then just behind his ear. The speed of things up here is so much slower than the desperation downstairs- Odd. Fast, dirty, and quick in public with strobe lights and loud music to quiet and romantic in someone else's bathroom. Alfred shivers and closes his eyes. He might have even moaned a little. He doesn't care- Not with the way Arthur is kissing, biting, sucking on his neck.

"I-" Alfred begins hoarsely, "I hope you left marks."

He can feel Arthur smiling on his collarbone.

"Yeah." He finally replies, and leans back to lock eyes with Alfred. He moves his hands to remove Alfred's glasses.

"Do me." He whispers, not breaking eye-contact with Alfred. Alfred is completely sure he actually stop breathing at this point.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. " He eloquently says after some time gaping at the sudden boldness of Arthur, but hey, it's kinda hot.

"Christ." He tangles his hand in Arthur's hair and he gasps as Alfred kisses, then licks and sucks at the side of Arthur's neck. The tender flesh quickly changes its colour from pale to dark red.

Alfred stops after a while and looks up, staring directly into his green, far too _green_, like meadows and miracles and shit, eyes.

"Fuck, Arthur. Where do you hide all this horniness when you're not using it? Your eyebrows?"

"Well, fuck _me_ for being so enamoured with you, otherwise I-"

"Okay." Alfred boldly cuts him off with a bright smile, lifting Arthur's shirt off slowly and caressing each of his ribs. He shrugs his sweater off and Arthur drops his jacket to the floor with a muffled clang.

He then looks into Alfred's eyes again and finds himself sinking, sinking further and further into those wonderfully blue orbs. How corny.

Alfred kisses him, messily and sloppily, but neither of them cares. They've got time. Arthur finds himself leaning forward, and Alfred pushes him slightly backwards, so that he's elevated on top of the counter holding the sink.

At least that's more romantic than the toilet, Alfred thinks, as they break apart and Arthur pulls off Alfred's shirt and begins unbuttoning his belt. Alfred rests his head in the crook of Arthur's neck, and once Arthur is satisfied with his work of slowly undressing him, that little shit, he raises a hesitant hand and runs it through Alfred's hair. Alfred smiles on his skin, hums happily, and quickly kisses the skin before removing Arthur's own shirt. Arthur raises his arms to help, and then quickly cards his hands to pull Alfred in for another heated kiss. He runs his hands over his back, and Alfred wonders whether he's trying to memorise him, but diminishes it as wishful thinking.

Alfred is embarrassingly hard.

If Arthur noticed, he didn't seem to care.

Alfred grins forward against Arthur, harshly and violently, hearing Arthur hiss and mutter a muted _"Oh, __Fuck__,",_ probably because he's presently biting into Alfred's bare shoulder. Alfred grabs Arthur, pulls him closer, _even_ _closer_, but it's never close enough- Not with the way Arthur's making those weird little noises and gasps of air. Alfred's own breaths come irregularly, and he barely hitches an "_Ah_," when Arthur shifts slightly and pushes a leg between Alfred's crotch.

He swears he can see stars.

The music is still blaring, and it's _so_ _damn __hot_.

Arthur is so damn hot, it's unfair, and a little strangely _embarrassing_ how Arthur can make Alfred hard just by smiling.

He's sure that going to Francis's party is probably the best thing that's happened to him. Ever.

Arthur moans in his arms when Alfred returns to the motion, pushing towards his body, and setting a slow rhythm , in tune with the obnoxiously loud bass from downstairs. Arthur's nails scratch his back a little.

"Fuck," Alfred says again, and leans to place his head into the crook of Arthur's neck, biting it, "Ah-_shit_-"

"God-" Arthur croaks hoarsely, and it's the sexiest thing he's heard for a long time, "_Alfred_." He moans, and continues to breath into his ear, hot and damp.

Alfred doesn't think anymore. He can't.

This is _it_.

Hearing Arthur moaning his name pretty much did it for him.

He comes with a shout and bites into Arthur's neck, who's breath hitches and lets out a long, low moan, before twitching in his arms.

Alfred kisses Arthur's cheek, sloppily, and Arthur sniffs daintily, then blushes.

'_Course_ he does.

Just seconds ago he's sexually moaning and _grinding_ and doing all sort of crazy shit to Alfred's brain.

_Now_ he blushes like a Victorian virgin.

Alfred untangles himself from Arthur, sadly enough, regretting the loss of Arthur's touch already, and grabs some toilet paper to clean himself up. He gives Arthur some too. Alfred shyly looks away.

Arthur calmly puts on his shirt and jacket again, and then digs in his pockets. Finding his cigarette carton, he lights one and inhales. Alfred takes a drink from the rum bottle. Luckily, he doesn't cough and splutter this time.

"Arthur?" He says, looking at him, who leans against the sink and smiles a little. Alfred wishes he could capture him, just like that. He's beautiful.

"Yeah?"

"... You're beautiful." Alfred says with a small smile. Arthur chuckles in reply, and stares up at the ceiling.

"I'm not, you wonderful fool." He says with the most gorgeous look of adoration in his eyes and takes a drag from his cigarette. "Let's go back to mine. I'm tired and I don't feel like going back downstairs."

"Okay." Alfred says with a smile. Arthur jumps down from the counter, revealing the mirror behind him.

"Aw, Artie, look! It's all smudged!" Alfred exclaims, gesturing dramatically to the mirror.

Arthur hums in response and picks up the lipstick again. He uses the back of his hand to smudge some space free in the corner and writes _'The __Special Relationship__ has been_ _kept __special__ here.', _resting his cigarette between his wonderfully flush lips. Alfred snatches the lipstick from Arthur's hand and draws a little heart for good measure, blushing furiously. Arthur turns around and stabs Alfred in the side with his hand, laughing, and Alfred giggles in response.

Arthur unlocks the door and leads them out, but not before grabbing the bottle in one hand and sticking his cigarette between his lips. Both of them make a beeline outside, not wanting to deal with anymore drunk- from expensive French imported wine- Francis and high- off weed and possibly oregano or other kitchen herbs, as well as multiple pills- Gilbert.

Alfred smiles at the way Arthur holds his hand again- Firmly, securely, and tightly.

Arthur takes long strides to the passenger seat of the red truck, and Alfred scrambles into the driver' seat. They sit in comfortable silence, and Alfred keeps his eyes concentrated on the road, only sneaking some glances towards Arthur. He sits, slouching a little, and smokes, opening the window and leaving the bottle next to his feet.

"Did you see Antonio and that Italian?" Alfred asks suddenly.

"No." Arthur replies flatly, "Why?"

"_Dude_, they looked like they were in a 'Durex' ad!" Alfred says with a laugh.

"Well, they won't last." Arthur pauses, "How long do you think they'd date?"

"Hmm... Like, three months?"

"Three months!?" Arthur repeats with a laugh.

"Fine! Two..?"

"Not even. Maybe two _weeks_."

"Pessimist."

"_Realist_." Arthur corrects him.

A moment of silence ensures again.

"Do you think the others talk about us the way we talk about them?" Arthur suddenly says.

Alfred stops and thinks.

"Nah," He finally replies with, "We're awesome!" He shoots Arthur a smile.

"Are we now?" Arthur says with a small smile.

"Yeah! Best couple for sure!" Alfred replies with a comical tilt to his head and eyebrows, "We'll last forever."

He immediately regrets saying the last part.

"I suppose we will." Arthur bits the side of his thumb. A nervous tick.

The way Alfred smiles down and looks so _damn_ _happy_ makes Arthur feel like he could burst.

"I love you." Alfred quietly says.

"I love you, too." Arthur responds, and he's fairly sure that he's never smiled so often on one night. He could cry.

Alfred's fairly sure his smile is the best damn thing he's ever seen.

He wants to see it every day for the rest of his life.

:::

_Yah okay I watched a lot of Skins. The Season One trailer inspired this. Also: I think I have an unhealthy obsession of describing Arthur in such a way that he's absolutely my perfect sort of guy. The same thing with Alfred. I'm so lame. Yay hormones. _

_Please note: The Killroy thing was a WW2 GI thing and I highly suggest google-ing it, I love it so much. What Arthur wrote was inspired by Stats-Britian on Twitter. I also suggest google-ing, every single one is solid gold. _

_Also note: Look me in the fuckin eyes and tell me that Gil doesn't seem like that one guy that smokes oregano and basil. _


End file.
